The Rarest Faith I: Spirits of Great Events
by Marguerite1
Summary: First in a series of six stories depicting the years 2006-2011.
1. Chapter one

THE RAREST FAITH I: SPIRITS OF GREAT EVENTS  
  
Classification: Post-Administration, Political  
Summary:  
"(Friendship) is an exercise of the purest imagination and the rarest faith."  
--Henry David Thoreau  
"Often do the spirits of great events stride on before the events." --Samuel  
Taylor Coleridge  
  
Author's notes are at the end of part 5.  
  
  
  
***   
November, 2006   
***  
  
Not with a bang but a whimper, Toby thought.  
  
He didn't dare utter the words as the 2006 Presidential race was called for  
Republican Senator Gregory Schiller, defeating Vice-President John Hoynes by 23  
electoral votes.  
  
Leo, Josh, C.J., and Toby had been invited to the Residence to watch with the  
President. The six of them sat in absolute, frozen silence as state after state  
fell, hardly even letting out sighs when Hoynes made the concession speech or  
when Schiller took the podium at his headquarters and began talking about all  
the changes - conservative Republican ones - he was going to make in American  
government.  
  
It was depressing as hell.  
  
"I really should call John," Bartlet said after a few moments.  
  
"Wait a while, Jed," Abbey advised, reaching for his hand. "He'll need space  
between conceding the election and talking to a man who won twice."  
  
Josh was leaning toward the television, wringing his hands as the slow crawl of  
the news ticker gave the results of various Congressional races. Toby was  
pretending not to pay attention, but did such a bad job of it that C.J. laughed  
and pinched his arm. "Just go ahead and look at the results, would you?"  
  
"Where the hell is California?" Josh demanded.  
  
"South of Oregon, last time I looked," Leo replied in a perfect deadpan, but he  
too was scanning the lists of names and numbers.  
  
The networks were slow to divulge the results in the Western states even though  
polls had been closed for nearly an hour. A couple of the anchors were taking  
their time with pundits, locked in discussion of minute pieces of local  
legislation that didn't mean anything.  
  
The shrilling of Josh's cellphone made everyone jump. Josh grabbed it out of his  
pocket and looked at the Caller ID. "It's Sam," he whispered.  
  
Abbey crossed herself. Bartlet and Leo shared a quick glance. C.J. grabbed  
Toby's arm, holding so tightly that he was sure he'd have bruises the next day.  
  
"Josh," Toby muttered, waving his free hand in the air, "are you going to answer  
the phone or just stare at the wonder that is Sam Seaborn's phone number?"  
  
Josh flipped the phone open and held it to his ear. "Hey, Sam."  
  
Toby remembered Sam telling him that Josh had the worst poker face in the  
history of the world. It wasn't true now. There was no expression, neither a  
dimple nor a downward flick of the mouth. Nothing to indicate what Josh was  
hearing.  
  
"Josh," C.J. whined, prodding his shin with her toe.  
  
He continued talking into the phone. "Sure, I'll tell them," he said evenly.  
  
"Tell us what?" Leo demanded. Josh waved him to silence.  
  
Bartlet narrowed his eyes. "It's not too late to fire you, Josh, you know that?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam," Josh said smoothly as he turned his attention back to the  
phone. "I got interrupted. What was it again that you wanted me to tell them?"  
  
Toby's pulse raced, and he felt a lump rising in his throat. Then Josh finally  
smiled, just a little bit, and the look in his eyes softened as he said, "Good  
night, Senator."  
  
One click as the cell phone was folded up again.  
  
Two members of the First Family holding hands and smiling.  
  
Three seconds of silence.  
  
Four television anchors breaking in with the news that former White House  
staffer and current California Lieutenant Governor Samuel Seaborn had been  
elected to the United States Senate by a landslide.  
  
Five people demanding that Josh hit "redial" and hand over the cell phone.  
  
Bartlet won. "Give me that," he muttered as he snatched the phone from Josh's  
hand and stared at the array of buttons over the rims of his glasses. "Apollo 11  
didn't have this many controls."  
  
Leo, smirking just a little, made the appropriate choices and seconds later the  
President was talking to the new Senator.  
  
Toby found himself holding C.J. in his arms. She was sobbing a little and  
laughing a little and Josh was patting her on the back, a thrilled and more than  
slightly goofy smile on his face. "He did it, he did it," C.J. murmured over and  
over.  
  
"One of us gets to stay here and govern," Leo whispered. "I'm so glad it's Sam."  
  
"He's been in California for the last three years, and two of those were in  
Sacramento. Technically he's not 'staying' here," Toby put in, trying to sound  
gruff, but his heart was so full of pride that he ended up chuckling instead and  
hugging C.J. even tighter.  
  
Abbey had the phone now, talking to Sam and holding her hand over her other ear  
so she could hear him better. Bartlet walked over to the others and put his arm  
around Josh's shoulder. "Looks like I can go ahead and fire you, since you've  
got a job lined up."  
  
Furrows appeared on Josh's forehead. "What job?"  
  
"Chief of Staff."  
  
"For...whom?"  
  
"Nice job, Jed," Abbey shot from across the room, holding her hand over the  
mouthpiece. "I think Sam wanted to make that offer himself."  
  
"Whoops." Bartlet shrugged. "He didn't tell me it was a secret."  
  
"The man's a sieve, Sam," Abbey said into the phone. "I don't think Josh can  
talk right now - his mouth's flapping open and shut like a beached fish. But I'm  
pretty sure that C.J. would like to say a few words." She held the phone to  
C.J., who wriggled out of Toby's grasp and took it.  
  
"Senator Samuel Seaborn - I'm glad I only have to say that out loud for a few  
more months." She listened for a moment, then laughed. "So I guess I can't call  
you 'Spanky' anymore...God, Sam I don't know what to say. And are you really  
hiring Josh?" There was another moment of silence followed by more bright  
laughter. C.J. muffled the phone on her shoulder. "He says he actually wants  
Donna, but the only way she'll work for him is if he takes you."  
  
"Yeah, a laugh riot," Josh groused, but his expression was full of wonder.  
  
"Tell him about the New Year's party," Abbey said in a loud stage whisper.  
  
"Listen, Sam, Dr. Bartlet's throwing a New Year's party and since you're likely  
to be in the neighborhood, would you like to drop by? And speaking of  
neighborhoods, Toby's been grabbing at the phone and--"  
  
"I have not," Toby protested, then he noticed that he'd risen from the sofa and  
was now standing mere inches from C.J. "I have not been grabbing."  
  
"He's looked longingly, so I'm gonna give you over to him. Yeah, I love you too.  
Here he is."  
  
Toby's hand trembled a little as he took the phone. "Hey."  
  
"Toby! I wish you were here!"  
  
Sam sounded as exhilarated as Toby had ever heard. More so than when they'd won  
the first campaign, and certainly more than when they'd won the second and he'd  
begun the process of separating himself from the White House.  
  
"I wish I were there, too. It's no joy being in Washington tonight."  
  
Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah. I bet. Has anyone talked to Hoynes?"  
  
"Not yet. The President's gonna call in a little while." Toby mouthed the name  
"Hoynes" to Bartlet and Leo, who nodded, their countenances turning solemn once  
again. "Will you be back in D.C. in time for the party?"  
  
"Wouldn't miss it. Listen, Toby, I've got to go make a speech and stuff, but it  
was great talking to you."  
  
"Who wrote the speech?" Toby asked, raising an eyebrow at C.J.  
  
"I did," Sam said softly.  
  
"Then you're gonna be okay. Knock 'em dead, Senator." With that, Toby folded the  
phone again and handed it back to Josh. "He had to go give his acceptance  
speech."  
  
"You could write for him, you know," Leo said as he patted Toby on the shoulder.  
"The guy's good, but you're better."  
  
"I don't think so," Toby answered. He glanced at Bartlet, then C.J. "In fact, I  
think I'm about written out, speech-wise."  
  
"Don't say that!" Abbey's voice broke through the assorted denials. "I've seen  
the drafts of Jed's farewell address and they're some of the most beautiful  
words ever assembled on paper!"  
  
"Thank you, ma'am." Toby rubbed his palms together as if his hands were cold. A  
million thoughts raced through his mind, which made him speak even slower so  
that the words wouldn't collide. "I serve at the pleasure of the President. But  
sir, I was wondering - will you really need me around after the speech is  
locked?"  
  
"Toby, I'll always need you around. I hope you know that." Bartlet stood in  
front of him, looking up at him with his blue eyes narrowed. Puzzled. "Do you  
want to leave?"  
  
"Not want. No, sir. But..." He trailed off, looking at C.J.'s stricken face and  
Josh's closed eyes. "I think it's entirely possible that I've done all I can for  
your administration and that to overstay my welcome would be...prolonging the  
agony."  
  
"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" Bartlet sounded weary. He clasped Toby's  
forearms and held on for a few moments. "We've all got a lot to think about in  
these next few weeks. If you want to talk to me about it, just step in and see  
me. It's not as if I'm going to be doing much other than packing." At last he  
smiled, and Toby managed to smile back. "And could someone get Josh to close his  
mouth before he gets drool all over the carpet that will only be mine for the  
next two months?"  
  
C.J. tugged at Josh's hand. "I think we'd better get down to our offices. Good  
night, Mr. President." She smiled as Abbey reached up to hug her. "Good night,  
ma'am."  
  
Toby and Josh said their goodnights as well, Josh lagging a little behind until  
C.J. yanked him forward. After a moment, the Bartlets and Leo sat down again.  
  
"Schiller. Holy God, Leo, what is wrong with the American people?" Bartlet's  
tone was laced with disdain. Abbey snuggled against him as she and her husband  
waited for Leo's response.  
  
"I don't know, sir. Perhaps they're revolting against us."  
  
"Or perhaps they're just revolting, full stop." Bartlet leaned his head back.  
"You know the one thing I'm not gonna miss about this place, Leo?"  
  
"What's that, sir?"  
  
Bartlet tilted his head up again and met Leo's inquisitive gaze. "You calling me  
'sir.'"  
  
They all smiled, then Bartlet grew somber again as he reached for the phone and  
told the operator to put him through to John Hoynes' campaign office.  
  
***  
  
"Josh, did you hear?" Donna asked as she met up with C.J., Toby, and Josh en  
route to the mess. Her greeting bordered on a shriek and her face was  
illuminated by an enormous smile. She tilted her head to one side, watching him.  
After a delay and a nudge from C.J., Josh finally smiled back.  
  
"Yeah, I talked to him a few minutes ago."  
  
"You don't sound excited."  
  
"You've been around Josh when he's excited," Toby said mildly, balancing on the  
balls of his feet for a moment. "Are you sure you want to repeat the  
experience?"  
  
"I'm excited, I'm excited," Josh said, but his voice was still subdued.  
  
"What's the catch?" C.J. asked.  
  
Josh grabbed a cup of coffee and took a seat at a nearby table. "Two weeks ago I  
agreed to be the Chief of Staff for the Minority Leader."  
  
"You didn't think Sam would be elected?" C.J. asked, her voice getting higher  
with each word. Toby placed a cup of coffee in front of her and one in front of  
Donna before heading back to the sideboard to get his own.  
  
"It's not that." Josh sighed and bent the red plastic stirrer into an uneven  
triangle. "Even though it'd be unusual to elect a junior Senator who'd only  
served at the state level for part of one term, it's not unheard of. It just  
didn't occur to me that Sam would want me as part of his staff."  
  
Toby froze with the carafe in one hand and the empty cup in the other. "Why the  
hell not?"  
  
"It's complicated."  
  
"We have lots of time on our hands tonight," C.J. declared with a grateful nod  
at Toby.  
  
Donna handed Josh three packets of sugar, which he took and opened without  
really looking at them. He started to stir the coffee before he realized that  
he'd demolished the stirrer. Donna passed him another before he had a chance to  
ask for it.  
  
Josh began hesitantly. "When Sam decided to leave, he was--"  
  
"Pissed?" Toby supplied.  
  
"That, and disillusioned. He said he was particularly disillusioned in me."  
  
"Why?" C.J. took a sip of her coffee and made a face. "This needs booze in it."  
  
"What doesn't?" Donna asked as she handed Josh a napkin. "He's called your  
office plenty of times."  
  
"Yeah, for information and stats. But he didn't ask for my help on the  
campaign."  
  
"He didn't ask for mine, either," Toby cut in, "but I don't assume that it was  
out of some sort of lingering resentment. He knew we were trying to help  
Hoynes."  
  
"I know. It's stupid." He couldn't find the words for the empty space he'd held  
in his heart for the last three years, for not seeing Sam except on a couple of  
quick stops in California. "I wasn't expecting him to offer."  
  
"He didn't so much offer as blab to President Bartlet that he was going to,"  
C.J. said matter-of-factly. "Still, you're going to have to make a decision in  
the next couple of days."  
  
"Oh, great." Josh drank from his cup and grimaced, then ran his tongue over his  
teeth. "This is disgusting. I think we should go get a drink."  
  
"I can't," C.J. said. "I promised to do a late briefing - I'm just waiting for  
Carol to get me the rest of the results."  
  
"I have a thing. In fact, I'm late for the thing, so if you'll excuse me, I've  
got to run." Donna got up and dumped her cup into the trash. Josh watched her as  
she departed, listening with his head cocked until the last click of her heels  
could no longer be heard.  
  
"She's got a thing, huh?" C.J. inquired.  
  
Toby's eyes widened. "She's still seeing Calley?"  
  
"Off and on," Josh grumbled. "Lately it's on. I guess she wants to cover her  
bases in case of impending unemployment."  
  
"Josh, if you want to get maudlin, then go home or go see Amy. I've got, you  
know, stuff to do," Toby said as he grabbed his coffee and stood up.  
  
"Sorry. It's been a weird kind of night. I'm not used to losing."  
  
"You didn't lose, Josh. Hoynes did. If he'd put you on his staff, then--"  
  
"He'd probably have lost anyway, Toby."  
  
"Wow, way to be negative," C.J. said as she stood up as well. "Seriously, Josh,  
go home. Get laid or something, would you? And tell the Minority Leader that you  
got a better offer from a better man." She leaned over and kissed Josh on the  
forehead. "See you in the morning."  
  
"Got it." Josh sat in the dark, his head resting on his folded arms. After a few  
minutes, he dragged his cell phone out and pressed two buttons. "Hey, Amy. It's  
me. I know it's late, but..."  
  
***  
  
"Did you sleep at all?" C.J. asked the next morning as she entered Toby's office  
without knocking.  
  
"A little." He looked up from his laptop, hoping his eyes weren't as red and  
bleary as he suspected. "I saw your briefing last night. Very classy."  
  
"Thanks." She took a seat on the sofa and leaned forward. "I got something  
after, though. From a couple of people."  
  
"Something about what?"  
  
C.J. was quiet for a few seconds. "Something the Majority Leader said about  
'better enforcement of existing laws.'"  
  
"Well, that's something we've never heard," Toby remarked, peering at C.J. from  
around the screen. "What's the big deal?"  
  
"The big deal is that the laws he's interested in enforcing are the ones about  
sodomy. Anything that might imply sexual relations between two consenting adults  
of the same gender."  
  
Toby's laptop made a hiccuping protest as he closed it with a sharp gesture.  
"Who gave this to you?"  
  
"Mike said something about it, and Arthur and Katie confirmed. I'm having Carol  
check the leads. But, Toby, if this is what he said--"  
  
"We're not thinking about this right now. Not until we know exactly what he said  
and to whom he said it."  
  
"What if someone else leaks it?"  
  
"That's their problem, C.J." Toby picked up a pencil and tapped it against the  
desk. One-two-three, pause, one-two-three-four. Faster. Louder. "He hasn't been  
sworn in yet, and already he's developing athlete's tonsils? This sounds too  
good to be true."  
  
"I'll check on it." She stood up, stretched, and went over to his desk. Perching  
on the corner, she leaned over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Seriously,  
Toby. How're you feeling?"  
  
He looked down at the tapping pencil as if it were moving of its own volition.  
Stilled it. Continued looking at the markings - Faber-Castell, no. 2. Swallowed.  
"I understand that the Constitution allows for a total of eight years for a  
President to be in office. I understand that we got here in '98 and we're  
leaving in '06. I guess what I didn't really think about was that this is '06  
and we're being evicted."  
  
C.J. sighed. "It didn't seem real to me either, not until last night. When they  
called it for Schiller. I mean, we knew Hoynes was going out, but this..."  
  
"It's winding down. We're just figures in a cuckoo clock going 'round and 'round  
with no destination. Slower and slower." Without looking at C.J., Toby held out  
his hand and she clasped it between both of hers before bringing it to her lips.  
  
"Come over tonight when you're done," she whispered.  
  
They'd done this off and on for a decade. More frequently in the last few years,  
especially after Sam had left for California. Comfort, solace, the unknotting of  
their increasingly complicated lives.  
  
He loved her, every world-weary inch, from the occasional gray hair that got  
pulled out or colored over, down to the bright red polish on the nails of her  
long, narrow toes. And everything in between.  
  
"Yes," he said simply, opening his laptop again and beginning to type.  
  
***  
  
Jed Bartlet never puttered around.  
  
He was always reading memos, signing things, making phone calls. Deciding the  
fate of the nation. But today he found himself with an empty calendar and  
nothing to do but pace the floor of Leo's office.  
  
"If you wear a track in the carpet, they'll charge you for it," Leo remarked  
without looking up from the open folder on his desk.  
  
"Nah. I'll just say you did it." Bartlet made a cursory inspection of a painting  
he'd seen a million times before, then settled his glasses back on his nose and  
sighed loudly.  
  
Leo took his time closing the report, then looked at his old friend. "Can I help  
you?"  
  
"I'm good. But thanks. It's just a weird day, you know? I'm about to be  
unemployed for the first time since I was fifteen."  
  
"You and a hell of a lot of other people," Leo said. "I'm gonna keep Margaret on  
as a personal assistant and Donna will end up working for Josh, but most of  
these people are going to be pounding the pavement in two months. Toby's  
assistant, Ginger? I had someone send her home because she was bawling her eyes  
out in the lobby and scaring the people on the tour."  
  
Bartlet acknowledged Leo's words with a slight shake of the head. "Toby's gonna  
bail on us, Leo, can you believe it?"  
  
"He's had about the longest tenure of any Communications Director in anyone's  
memory. I'd hardly call leaving in the last few months of the term 'bailing'  
under any circumstances."  
  
"I know. And maybe it's best that they leave one at a time instead of in a  
clump." He put his hand over his heart. "I love these people, Leo, even the ones  
whose names escape me. I don't think I could bear to lose them all at once."  
  
"We survived when Sam went home." Leo recalled all too clearly those first few  
days, when Toby had haunted the halls and Jed had stared at Sam's last speech as  
if it were a lost chapter of Scripture. "It hurt like hell, but we survived. And  
these people aren't dropping off the face of the Earth."  
  
"No, but I will be. Abbey and I are going back to the farm, Leo, out in the  
middle of nowhere, still surrounded by guards but not for a good reason."  
  
"Ron's going to be on your detail." Ron Butterfield had requested permission to  
leave the White House, citing continuing problems with his hand that had been  
damaged by the bullet in Rosslyn.  
  
"But Josh and Sam will be on the Hill, and C.J. will be in some big town making  
a splash. And Toby - who knows where he'll end up?" Bartlet rubbed his hands  
together and tilted his head up as if inspecting the ceiling. "The worst of it  
is that I won't see you."  
  
"I'm moving to Boston, not Bahrain. You'll see me."  
  
"Not like this. I won't be able to open a door and have you there, waiting to  
advise me."  
  
Leo had to choke back a sob. The same sorrow had been gnawing at him for days,  
set aside in the furor of the last days of the campaign but coming back  
full-force today. He cast an involuntary glance at the folder on his desk, then  
looked back up at the President. "You'll have Abbey, and the girls will be by  
all the time. You won't be lacking in people telling you what to do."  
  
"It won't be the same," Bartlet whispered, looking at Leo as if memorizing the  
details of his face.  
  
"No, sir." There was a pause. "But you'll appreciate me more once you've had a  
chance to miss me."  
  
"I doubt that's possible, but I'll give it a try. I'm going back to the office  
while it's still mine. You want to have dinner with Abbey and me tonight?"  
  
"Thanks, but I'm gonna see Mallory."  
  
"Rain check? Tomorrow night?"  
  
"I'll be happy to. Thank you, Mr. President." Leo smiled at Bartlet as he walked  
through the connecting door.  
  
The smile melted when Leo opened the folder again, took out the papers, and ran  
his finger over the cadeuceus symbol next to his doctor's name.  
  
***  
Part 2   
  



	2. Chapter two

***  
  
C.J. could hardly make out any faces, the sea of hands and camera flashes  
obliterating any chance of recognizing individual reporters. She pointed and  
hoped that the person she was aiming at had actually been asking a question.  
  
Mike's voice soared above the pandemonium. "Does the President have a comment on  
the remarks made by Senator Booth?"  
  
"I honestly haven't talked to the President today. I've been too busy updating  
my resumé. Will you give me a good recommendation?"  
  
Everyone laughed. Mike changed the question slightly. "To the best of your  
knowledge, has the President heard the comments?"  
  
"Again, I really don't know. I just heard bits and pieces about it myself." She  
didn't mention that Josh had almost been dancing down the hall and that Toby had  
cracked a smile that nearly broke his face. "Seriously, can someone in the room  
tell me exactly what was said? I don't have a copy to refer to."  
  
Now the remarks would be on the record forever, and not from her lips. C.J.  
fought back a smirk as Chris rose and read from her note pad.  
  
"The Senator said that he supported President-Elect Schiller's suggestion of  
cracking down on crime using existing laws rather than enacting new ones. He  
said, and I quote: 'We can start right here in the United States Congress.  
There's no room in Congress for criminals, and I say we start with the sodomites  
who are sullying the hallowed halls of the Legislature. I'm announcing that a  
committee is forming to discuss a bill to force all homosexual members of  
Congress to resign or face prosecution as criminals.'"  
  
Like taking candy from a baby.  
  
Chris continued: "When confronted with this statement, both President-Elect  
Schiller and Republican National Committee Chairperson Julia Barnes declined to  
comment."  
  
C.J. knew Toby was watching in his office. She imagined the look on his face.  
Oh, the sex was going to be good tonight.  
  
To the assembled journalists, C.J. said that she'd check with President Bartlet  
and get a reading on his thoughts in the morning.  
  
Mike raised his hand and C.J. called on him. "What do you have for us about Josh  
Lyman?"  
  
"How much column space do you have?" C.J. quipped.  
  
Over the laughter, Mike continued. "There's a buzz going around that Josh isn't  
going to be the Minority Leader's Chief of Staff after all. What's that about?"  
  
"It's about another offer. Not a 'better' one, necessarily, but one that you'll  
understand in a moment. It's true that Josh initially took the job, but since  
then he's been offered the same position by the soon-to-be-minted Senator  
Seaborn. And since they've been friends for so long--"  
  
"That'd make him Saint Senator Seaborn," muttered Katie under her breath, and  
everyone in the room laughed.  
  
"One more thing - and I hate to bring this up," said Arthur from his seat, "but  
there's an unconfirmed report that Leo McGarry's personal physician sent medical  
records to him this morning by courier. Can you elaborate on that?"  
  
She wanted to say that the White House didn't disclose matters of the staffers'  
health, but that would leave her to be ripped apart by wolves just as she had  
after the MS disclosure. God, not today. C.J. took a deep breath, adjusted her  
glasses, and said "If Mr. McGarry wishes to respond to this question about his  
health, then I'm sure he'll give me information for the afternoon briefing.  
Thanks."  
  
C.J. handed her notebook to Carol, who was holding the door open for her. "I'll  
get you the next ten minutes Leo's got," Carol offered.  
  
"Screw that. I'm going in."  
  
She stalked down the hall, almost colliding with Josh. "C.J., what the hell was  
Arthur--"  
  
"I'm on it."  
  
"I'm coming with you." Josh picked up his pace, panic radiating from him like  
fever heat. "You think he's fallen off the wagon?"  
  
"Josh, it's probably nothing. A physical. You know how impatient Leo gets. He  
probably had the results messengered over."  
  
"Yeah." Unconvinced.  
  
They breezed past Margaret, who was placing an order for moving boxes. "He's  
got--"  
  
"We didn't see you," C.J. called as she followed Josh into Leo's office. She  
heard Josh's strangled gasp and followed his line of sight.  
  
The President was standing with his back to the window of Leo's office. His jaw  
was set firmly and his fists were clenched, and he stared up at the ceiling  
without seeming to see it. What had made Josh gasp, and made C.J.'s heart nearly  
stop beating, were the tears running down the President's face.  
  
Leo, standing at Bartlet's side, waved Josh and C.J. further into the office. "I  
guess I'd better talk to you, huh?"  
  
Josh's face was ashen. C.J. stroked his upper arm and guided him over to the  
window. "We shouldn't have barged in," she said. Her mouth was dry and her palms  
were wet as she looked from Leo to the President and back again.  
  
"We were all watching the briefing together when you got the question," Leo  
said. "You were going to be my second call."  
  
"Okay," C.J. said. It was automatic. She felt anything but okay, not okay,  
because anything that reduced the President to tears had to be nothing short of  
catastrophic.  
  
"I think we should all sit down, Mr. President," Leo murmured.  
  
"You go ahead," Bartlet replied, his voice tight and gravelly. "I'm just gonna  
stay right here for a while."  
  
C.J. propelled Josh to the sofa and sat down next to him. Leo took the chair  
closest to C.J. and leaned forward with his hands clasped together. "Like a lot  
of alcoholics, I've done some damage to my body. That, plus the Valium." He  
licked his lips and C.J. could tell he had trouble looking her in the eye - and  
that he could not look at Josh at all.  
  
It took all her strength for C.J. to reach out and cover Leo's hand with hers.  
"What is it, Leo?"  
  
"I have liver cancer." He seemed relieved to have gotten the words out, but he  
still did not look at either Josh or the President.  
  
"Oh, Leo." It came out as a sob, and C.J.'s world blurred as the stinging tears  
flooded her eyes.  
  
"I'd suspected," Leo said. "It wasn't much of a surprise."  
  
"What about treatment?" C.J. could hardly get the words out. She could hardly  
hear his answer through the pounding of blood in her ears.  
  
"Chemo's not effective at this stage - it'd just make the quality of my life  
deteriorate with no payoff. My doctor's putting me on a list for a donation, but  
someone of my age isn't a high priority."  
  
C.J. lost her composure, hating herself for breaking down, hating the look in  
Leo's eyes as he tried to smile at her. "Aw, c'mon, C.J., I've got a few good  
years ahead of me. Please don't, don't do this..."  
  
"I'm so sorry...I just...wasn't..." She moved toward him and engulfed him in a  
hug, crying harder when his hands went to her back and patted softly. Comforting  
her. Over his shoulder she could see the President looking at Josh with both  
compassion and pain in his eyes.  
  
Josh, who had been wordless since they came into the office, suddenly rose and  
ran out the door. C.J. got up to follow him, but Leo held on to her wrist. "Let  
him go. Let him sort through this himself."  
  
She nodded, biting her lip as she stood up and straightened her jacket. "What  
can I do, Leo?"  
  
"Well, you'll need to tell the press, because whoever leaked that the courier  
was here might have even more information to divulge. Can you give me a couple  
of hours? I want to talk to Mallory myself. I'd meant to talk to her tonight,  
but--"  
  
"I'm sorry," C.J. said again. Useless. Her sympathy would do nothing to stop the  
relentless advance of the disease. It wouldn't help Leo, or Josh, or for that  
matter the President.  
  
"Thanks," Leo said softly. He leaned back in the chair. "Hey, C.J. - could you  
ask Margaret to step in, please?"  
  
She nodded. It hurt to glance at the President, who gave her a weak smile and a  
wave by way of dismissal, and it hurt worse to put her hand on Margaret's bony  
shoulder and say, "Leo would like a minute of your time."  
  
C.J. didn't stay to catch Margaret's expression, didn't try to figure out where  
Josh had gone. She couldn't go to Toby, not yet, not until just before she'd go  
into the press room and break the story. Instead she went to her office,  
instructed Carol to hold all calls and cancel the rest of her day, and sat at  
her desk with her hands over her eyes.  
  
***  
  
It was a quiet night.  
  
Most of them ended up in someone's arms. Jed in Abbey's, not really hearing what  
she murmured about the devastating prognosis. C.J. in Toby's, the two of them  
uncharacteristically wordless in their musings. Josh in Amy's, after he had  
turned up bedraggled and distraught at her office in the OEOB, unable to speak  
or cry. Donna in Cliff's, touched that he was nearly as upset by the news as she  
was.  
  
Some of them spent the night alone. Leo called a cab so Mallory wouldn't get  
into her own car in such a state. Margaret returned to the West Wing in the wee  
hours of the morning and curled up on Leo's sofa.  
  
The next morning he found here there with the tear-stained report clutched to  
her chest.  
  
And, somehow, they all went on from there.  
  
***   
Two weeks later   
***  
  
  
"Donna!"  
  
"I'm right here, Josh, you don't have to bark." Donna walked into the office and  
handed Josh a stack of phone messages. "Most of these are completely idiotic,  
but you should take a look at them anyway."  
  
He groaned at some of the names, the vultures hoping to get one last taste of  
carrion before the new administration took office. "Thanks. Do you have time to  
call Amy's office? She wants to come tomorrow with the President's group that's  
going to tour the Navy destroyer. Get in touch with her assistant and...do  
whatever it is you do when you coordinate stuff."  
  
"Not a problem. Oh, Matt Skinner phoned and said he'd like the next few minutes  
you've got."  
  
"When did you put him in?" Josh was intrigued. The past few days had seen more  
and more Republicans speaking in favor of banning gays from Congress on the  
basis of their "lawbreaking" activities, and Josh knew that had to be a terrible  
strain on Matt.  
  
"I just told him to come on over. He sounded terrible. I figured you were the  
only one he could talk to."  
  
"Because I am the soul of compassion?"  
  
Donna turned her gaze to the ceiling. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was going to  
say."  
  
"You're a real comedian, Donna," Josh said as he began wadding up various phone  
messages and shooting them into the wastebasket across the room. As he made a  
particularly impressive three-pointer, Matt Skinner walked into the office. "Did  
you see that?" Josh crowed.  
  
"Well, at least one of us has another career choice."  
  
Josh froze in mid-throw. He swiveled around in his chair to get a better look at  
his visitor. "You look like hammered hell," he said, scrambling to his feet and  
heading for the door. "Donna, could you get Senator Skinner--"  
  
Donna appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and handed him a cup of coffee. "And,  
no, I won't make it two," she said with a defiant toss of her head.  
  
"Thanks," Matt called from behind Josh as he grabbed the cup and took a sip with  
a grateful sigh. "At least now I'll look like hammered hell with a good caffeine  
fix."  
  
"What's going on?" Josh asked. He waited until Matt was seated before taking his  
own place behind the desk, leaning forward with his elbows on the unusually  
clean surface. "What brings you to the White House today?"  
  
Matt's empty gaze was somewhere past Josh's shoulder, in the direction of the  
window, but Josh knew that Matt wasn't seeing anything. "I loved being in the  
House. I love being in the Senate. You know what it's like, Josh, you've been  
there - when it's good, it's amazing. You get to put your finger on the pulse of  
the nation and do your damndest to make it healthy and whole."  
  
"There's nothing like it," Josh agreed. "But something tells me that Booth and  
his cronies are screwing things up for you."  
  
Nodding, Matt turned his drawn, pale face to Josh. "It's gotten bad. They've  
gathered support from all the usual suspects, mostly on the fringe end of the  
Christian Right." He took a deep breath. "There's no place for me among these  
people anymore. I can't do what I was sent to Washington to do. Josh, I want...I  
want to convert."  
  
Josh blinked slowly and shook his head. Coherent thought was beyond him. "You  
want...I don't...maybe you should...talk to Toby...he's more religious than I  
am..."  
  
"Don't be an idiot, Josh," Matt groaned, running his hand through his hair. "I  
don't want to become a Jew."  
  
Josh realized that his mouth was open, shut it so violently that he bit his  
tongue, and winced. "You can't possibly..."  
  
A smile broke through the gloom on Matt's face. "Josh, you asked me once how I  
could belong to this party and I said it was because I believed in most of what  
it stood for. In some ways I still do. But you were right in more ways than I  
realized."  
  
"I was right," Josh said, not really sensing victory as the ramifications began  
to filter through the cloud in his brain. "You can't represent them because they  
can't represent you. They won't."  
  
"Exactly." Matt relaxed into his chair. "So I figured, if I'm going to be a  
Democrat, I'd better get some advice from the Master."  
  
That made Josh beam. And smirk. "You have done well, Grasshopper."  
  
"Can it, Josh, I didn't mean you. I want you to get me in to see the President."  
  
"Oh." Josh's face fell and he looked down at the desk for a few seconds before  
he realized how gullible he was today. "You're kidding."  
  
"Yes, I'm kidding. But not about needing to get advice. Will you help me, Josh?"  
  
"You're about to turn the Senate from 50-50 to 51-49 just as Schiller's getting  
ready to take office - of course I'll help you!" Josh knew the ebullient smile  
on Matt's face had to match his own. "When can C.J. leak it?"  
  
"Tonight," Matt said, and Josh looked at him with alarm. "Seriously. I've given  
this a lot of thought over the past few weeks - and even before that. I need  
time to talk to my staff, and of course to the Majority Leader."  
  
"He won't be Majority Leader for long," Josh declared. "Damn. I was gonna work  
for the Minority Leader, but now he's the..." He shook his head. "Nah, I'd  
rather work for Sam anyway. How about I give it to C.J. this afternoon, and  
she'll arrange for a leak just in time for tonight's briefing?"  
  
"That'll work." Matt's face finally took on some color. "You have no idea how  
much I was dreading this conversation."  
  
"You assumed there'd be some...ribbing on my part? A well-timed 'I told you so'  
or something?"  
  
"And that's if I was lucky." He paused, meeting Josh's gaze with frankness.  
"Seriously, thank you in advance. I've done my homework on this - it's not a  
cold call."  
  
"I know. And I appreciate it." Josh rose and shook hands with Matt, then pulled  
him into an embrace, patting him on the back. "Welcome to the Chosen People, my  
friend."  
  
"Thanks." Matt headed for the door, then turned back to Josh. "Hey, I don't have  
to get a bris or anything, right?"  
  
"Depends on whether you're going to be a Conservative Democrat. For that, we ask  
you to cut off--"  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, then. Same time?"  
  
"Yeah. No, wait, later - I'm going out to a Navy destroyer with the President,  
and with Amy if Donna's made contact with her staff."  
  
"Which I've done," Donna said as she gave Matt his coat. "Am I supposed to  
pretend I don't know what's going on, or may I congratulate you now?"  
  
"How does she know?" Josh asked.  
  
"Because I told her when I called," Matt answered, his voice mild and slightly  
amused.  
  
"You told her first?" Josh bellowed in outrage.  
  
"Josh, eighty percent of what goes through your office gets run past Donna  
first. I can't believe you haven't figured that out by now." Matt shook hands  
with Donna and accepted her hug. "Pencil me in for tomorrow after Josh gets  
back."  
  
"Will do." Donna followed Josh back into the office, looking pleased. "We need  
someone good. Now, more than ever, with that schmuck--"  
  
"That's President-Elect Schmuck to you, Donnatella."  
  
"You know what I mean." She gave him a quirky smile. "You're an interesting  
choice for a mentor, I'll give him that."  
  
Josh was silent, not knowing what to make of her remark.  
  
"But you're the best choice, Josh. I'm very proud of you." With that, she  
breezed out of his office and left him to make a call to C.J.  
  
***  
  
She didn't know how she was going to give this up.  
  
C.J. stood behind the podium and removed her glasses, getting to speak from the  
heart for a change. "How anyone is reacting to Senator Skinner's announcement  
with surprise is, frankly, quite beyond me. If the Democratic Party suddenly  
declared that it was illegal for women to own property, I sure wouldn't be  
sticking around. Matthew Skinner has been a credit to both the House and Senate,  
a man of principle and honor, a true representative. If the Republican Party  
can't see its way past his bedroom, then it's their loss - and I'd rather it be  
theirs than that of the people of the United States. That's a full lid, and good  
night to you all."  
  
She unbuttoned her suit jacket as she went through the door and down the hall to  
her office. "Good job, chief," Carol greeted her.  
  
"Thanks. Think I can go home now, or is there--"  
  
"One more thing," the women said in unison. Carol handed C.J. a phone message.  
"He said to call right after you were done."  
  
"NBC wants to talk to me? Seriously? What did I do this time?" C.J. asked.  
"That's rhetorical," she threw over her shoulder as she strode into her office.  
She sat on the edge of her desk and dialed the number and extension.  
  
She couldn't believe the voice on the other end. The new head of NBC News, Dean  
Kantor. "This is a direct line?" she asked, hating the way she sounded.  
  
"C.J.?"  
  
She realized that she'd stood up, and sat back down again. "Dean. What can I do  
for you?"  
  
"Get to New York on January 16th," he said. "We're starting a political  
newsmagazine, three evenings a week, and we want you to anchor."  
  
"I don't do temp work," C.J. said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face  
and wishing with all her might that Toby hadn't gone with the President to an  
event in Alexandria.  
  
"It's not temp. There's a market for this right now, with the Senate turned  
Democratic just as Schiller takes office. We have a guarantee of 35 weeks from  
the brass. Think of it as the world's longest audition."  
  
"Dean. Seriously. My background's in P.R., not broadcasting. I have something  
along the lines of zero experience..."  
  
"What you have is credibility. You've been the face of the White House for eight  
years. You're trusted, you're admired, you're quick on your feet."  
  
"In other words, I appeal to your demographic."  
  
There was a pause. "I won't lie to you. We know that your background is  
different from that of any other candidate we could possibly approach. But we  
also know that you'd be very good for us. And you know you'd be the first woman  
to be the sole anchor of a program of this kind."  
  
"That's crossing my mind." Along with a number of other things, like Toby moving  
to New York as he'd been longing to do, like having an apartment she actually  
saw once in a while, like keeping herself on a virtual podium for at least  
another year. "I need to give it some thought," she said, hoping that her sudden  
leap from the desk as she pumped her fist in the air wouldn't be audible in any  
way. "I'd need some time to think about it."  
  
"C.J. I'm a proud man. Don't make me beg."  
  
"I've thought about it. Yes. I'll do it."  
  
"You drive a hard bargain. How about I come out to DC over the weekend and we'll  
talk about it in person?"  
  
"That's wonderful. Thank you, Dean, thank you."  
  
"Go home. We can't have our star getting bags under her eyes."  
  
C.J. set the phone back in its cradle, then put her hands over her heart. "We're  
going home, Toby," she whispered. "We're going home."  
  
***  
Part 3  
  



	3. Chapter three

***   
The next day   
Late afternoon   
***  
  
  
"How was lunch?" Donna asked as she placed four neat file folders on Josh's  
desk.  
  
Josh, who was looking out the window, turned around slowly. This was the part he  
was really dreading. "Lunch was...in the mess on a Navy destroyer."  
  
"But did you see anything interesting? I mean, they're the size of small cities,  
and you flew there on Marine One with the President and Amy. Something  
interesting must've happened."  
  
"Close the door," Josh sighed.  
  
"Josh...did you push any buttons you weren't supposed to?" Donna asked, her tone  
light and mocking. "Are we now at war with Nova Scotia?"  
  
"Just close the door, please. And sit down."  
  
Donna's eyes were wary as she took a seat in Josh's extra chair. "Just how bad  
is it?"  
  
"I wouldn't say bad. I'd say, maybe, surprising. Amusing, even." He kept his  
hands folded in his lap. "You know Amy was there."  
  
"Josh, just yesterday I helped her assistant coordinate the travel  
arrangements." Donna's brow furrowed. "You two didn't, you know, in a bunk  
somewhere, did you?"  
  
"Donna! No. But the thing is, it turns out the captain knew Amy back in grad  
school, and she introduced me, and he was explaining how he can actually marry  
people aboard his ship. We were joking around, and he walked us through it. And  
oddly enough, as it turns out, it was...the President told us on the way back  
that...it was enough to be legally binding."  
  
He had to stop. Donna's face was ashen and her mouth was twisted in what he was  
pretty sure wasn't an attempt to hold back laughter. "Oh, God, Josh," she  
whispered.  
  
"Anyway. Amy and I, we accidentally got married."  
  
"But...but it's not...you can get it annulled, or something...right?"  
  
Josh shook his head and brought his hands to the desk. "We're married, Donna. It  
was, you know, kinda weird for the first few minutes, but we've warmed to the  
idea, and you have to admit it's a good story. So I went to the bank and got my  
dad's ring out of the safe deposit box, for now, and Amy's looking around for  
something of her grandmother's to wear until we get something new. Or we might  
keep these, I don't know." He toyed with the antique gold band that twinkled on  
his left hand. "I wanted you to be the first to know."  
  
She just nodded without saying another word. When she stood up, Josh saw that  
her legs were shaky, her knees practically buckling as she wobbled toward the  
door. C.J. was coming in as she went out. "Hi, Donna."  
  
There was no response but the quick clattering of Donna's heels as she ran down  
the corridor. C.J. looked at Josh. "What'd you do?"  
  
"I didn't..." He raked his hand through his hair, looking down at his desktop,  
then back up at C.J.'s puzzled, angry expression. "Amy and I got married."  
  
C.J. said "Ah," pivoted on one heel, then spun back. "I'm sorry, you said...?"  
  
"C.J."  
  
"When? How?"  
  
"Today, and it's a long story involving the United States Navy."  
  
"Ah." C.J. held her note pad close to her chest. "Well, I'm going to need more  
than that because when this hits the press, I'll be expected to come up with the  
details."  
  
"I'll have Donna send you a memo," Josh said.  
  
C.J. blinked at him, then reached for the door and slammed it hard enough to  
rattle the photographs on Josh's wall. "Is that supposed to be funny?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is that supposed to be funny?" C.J. was standing at his desk now, palms spread  
on the surface, leaning over and glaring at him with all her considerable might.  
"Josh, you are such an idiot. Do you think Donna's sitting at her desk, waiting  
for you to give her the juicy details of your nooner nuptials?"  
  
Josh rose quickly. "I don't think I care for that phrase, C.J."  
  
"Well, that's a little bit too bad, Joshua, because I'm willing to bet that at  
least four major papers use it for their headlines! And I'm the one who's going  
to have to sell it out there at the briefings. You think this isn't going to get  
noticed?"  
  
"I think this is no one's business but mine!"  
  
"Think again, Watson. You're a highly visible member of the administration, more  
visible since you've just turned down the Chief of Staff job for the Minority  
Leader in the week that he suddenly becomes a Majority Leader. Your girlfriend's  
on television three nights a week, and her face is on the cover of everything  
from 'Working Woman' to 'Vogue.' You honestly think you can just slip out and  
quietly get married and no one will notice? God, Josh, haven't you learned a  
thing all these years?"  
  
"I don't care if they notice. And why the hell can't Donna write the memo?"  
  
"Cut the crap, Josh, even you aren't that damn dense."  
  
Josh reeled, stepping back toward the window, then he rounded the desk and  
headed for the door, opening it and pointing to the hallway while staring at  
C.J. with anger flashing in his eyes.  
  
"I'm still, for the next five weeks, the Deputy White House Chief of Staff. You  
work for me and you need to get that straight. Get out of my office."  
  
"Yeah, as soon as this big clump of people moves out of my way," C.J. said,  
adjusting her glasses and waiting for Josh to actually look in the direction he  
was pointing.  
  
Toby stood there, arms crossed over his chest. Leo was walking up with Margaret  
in tow. "What the hell is going on in here?" Leo asked.  
  
"C.J.'s having a conniption fit," Josh stated. "What the hell is going on out  
there?"  
  
The two men deferred to Margaret, who straightened her shoulders and gave Josh  
an evil look. "Roy - the guy at the desk in the lobby - just called about Donna.  
She tried to leave without signing out, so he stopped her and told her go back  
to sign. He said she was agitated and wouldn't tell him why. Then she threw up  
on his shoes and ran out of the building. Secret Service didn't think anything  
about her leaving and by the time anyone told them there was a problem, she'd  
already disappeared. She's not answering her cell phone or her pager."  
  
"Any idea why this might have happened?" Leo asked.  
  
Josh felt the blood drain from his face. He looked at C.J., who was standing  
with her hand over her eyes, then back at Toby, and finally at Leo.  
  
"I kind of...accidentally..." He swallowed hard and held his left hand up.  
"Today."  
  
"You were with the...you...on the ship?" Leo's voice rose. "What the hell,  
Josh?"  
  
"I've been dating Amy for four years - why is this a surprise to anyone?"  
  
"Perhaps because, during that time, the two of you have broken up more often  
than I've had hot meals," Toby suggested dryly.  
  
"Okay, I probably didn't pick the best way of telling Donna," Josh muttered.  
"But you know, a few congratulations might be in order. Or at least a lessening  
of the overt hostilities."  
  
There was a moment of tense silence, then Leo walked up and patted Josh on the  
arm. "Congratulations, Josh. I hope you're very happy."  
  
"I'm sorry. Congratulations," C.J. said, putting her hand on Josh's shoulder. "I  
was just...shocked."  
  
Toby and Margaret mumbled things Josh couldn't hear and walked away. Josh  
watched them leave, then turned to C.J.  
  
"If this is the bachelor party, then I can't wait for the honeymoon." He rubbed  
his eyes. "Guys, I think I'd like to be alone for a bit, okay?"  
  
"I really am sorry, Josh," C.J. said, trying to hug him, but he pulled away.  
"Josh."  
  
"It just...happened so fast. And I do love her."  
  
C.J. nodded. "I'm going now," she murmurred. "I really am happy for you, Josh.  
It's gonna be okay."  
  
Josh listened as the door snicked shut, then looked out of his window at the  
gathering dusk. "Yeah, that's what you want to hear three hours after you get  
married."  
  
He sat down at his desk, puttering around with the documents he would have to  
keep, file, add to the Presidential library, or just throw away. Good thing the  
marriage license wasn't in his hands, or he might be tempted to chunk it into  
the circular file as well. But he had Amy now, forever; she'd promised herself  
to him, and he to her.  
  
And he did love her. He did. Love her.  
  
By the time he finished his solitary reverie, it was nearly dark outside and  
Matt Skinner was standing in his doorway, grinning at him. "I wasn't sure if  
we'd be meeting today or not - given the rumors floating around."  
  
Josh cocked his head. "Rumors of my death may or may not be greatly  
exaggerated."  
  
"I hear congratulations are in order." Matt took a seat and extended his hand to  
Josh, who shook it. "Something about a Navy captain? You been holding out on me  
all these years?"  
  
"Yeah, it's a long story. And I've had a lot of time to think about it. Solitary  
time."  
  
"You shocked people who don't shock easily, Josh. That takes real talent.  
They'll come around once the initial...thing wears off." Matt looked around the  
office. "Donna's still out?"  
  
"She left for the day. She wasn't feeling well."  
  
"Yeah, I heard about that, too."  
  
"Well, you're a genuine fountain of information today, aren't you?" Josh leaned  
back in his chair, feeling his chest tighten with the growing anxiety. "What,  
just out of curiosity, did you hear?"  
  
"That you told Donna you'd gotten married and she ran out of here after booting  
her lunch on a guard's shoes. And that no one's heard from her since." Matt  
smiled ruefully. "Did you really think she'd offer to throw Amy a shower?"  
  
"I didn't expect the news of my marriage to make her vomit. Or to make C.J. yell  
at me, or Leo and Toby avoid me. And I'm pretty sure Margaret's in her office  
making Josh-shaped voodoo dolls to stick pins in." He sighed. "Matt, I've been  
dating Amy for over four years, give or take some times that were a  
little...strenuous. Donna dated Cliff Calley for a long time. I didn't throw up  
on her."  
  
"No, but she never committed to him." Matt pulled the chair closer, pinning Josh  
with his gaze. "Face it. If she'd married Cliff Calley - and he did ask her, you  
know, three times--"  
  
"I didn't know that," Josh breathed.  
  
"Well, he did, and if she'd said yes then you'd have moved heaven and earth to  
stop her. And even if you couldn't stop her, at least you'd know you'd tried.  
But Donna didn't get that chance, Josh, and frankly I think that's pretty crappy  
of you."  
  
"Donna and I don't have that kind of relationship," Josh said, his voice  
sounding flat even to himself.  
  
"Please, Josh. It's me. Don't try and bullshit me." Matt looked at him and  
sighed. "I know it was complicated. For a while I thought I'd need a flow chart  
to keep track of what was going on. But please, don't kid yourself - there was  
something, and you know it."  
  
"Was. Something." Josh whispered, turning the wedding ring around and around on  
his finger. "But I love Amy. I'm married to her. Better or worse."  
  
"Let's hope for better, then. Let me know when you get settled, I'll take you  
guys out to dinner."  
  
Josh's eyes focused for the first time in about two hours. "You say no one's  
heard from her?"  
  
"Not a peep," Matt said evenly, able to follow the disjointed train of thought.  
"Margaret called her roommate but she didn't go home. Bonnie and  
what's-her-name?"  
  
"Ginger."  
  
"Yeah, Ginger. Toby sent them out to all their haunts. C.J. sent Carol to the  
Georgetown library, and before you ask, yes, they've called Cliff and he hasn't  
seen her either."  
  
"Damn." Josh punched numbers into his phone, waited, and talked. "Donnatella.  
Pick up the phone. No, wait, if it's on voice mail, you don't know it's me. But  
when you get the message...call." He hung up, and when he looked at Matt he knew  
he must have looked like hell because Matt leapt to his feet.  
  
"I'll find her, Josh. Stay put."  
  
Matt didn't like the sudden pallor or the way Josh's right arm didn't seem to  
work correctly anymore, or the way Josh's breath came fast and shallow. Damn  
him, anyway, stupid son-of-a-bitch.  
  
He walked out of the White House without a firm idea of where he was going. He  
remembered someone telling him that Donna went to clear her head somewhere when  
Josh was still in the hospital, back when she was holding his office together  
with spit, chewing gum, and tenacity. He'd know it when he got there. He'd know  
it.  
  
Matt watched everyone in the thinning groups of people, looking for bright  
blonde hair atop a tall frame. At least she'd be easy to see. It was dark by the  
time he got to the Lincoln Memorial, but even though she was sitting out of the  
way of the spotlights, slouched over with her face in her hands, he knew he'd  
found her. Stepping back out of the way, he reached for his phone and dialed.  
"Josh. It's Matt. She's okay, and I'll call back later."  
  
He didn't wait for a response, just folded the phone and went to sit next to  
Donna. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"  
  
"You get a lot of women with that line?" Donna asked, her head still down.  
  
"I don't know - I've never tried," Matt answered breezily, leaning over so that  
when Donna lifted her head, she'd know who he was.  
  
"Senator!" Donna uncurled herself and started to get up, but Matt shook his head  
and patted the place next to him.  
  
"It's okay. I was just worried, so I thought I'd take a little walk. See if I  
could spot you. You should wear a hat if you don't want to be recognized."  
  
Donna regarded him with suspicion. "Did you go to your meeting with Josh, by any  
chance?"  
  
"Well, I showed up, but there wasn't much of a meeting." He paused for a moment.  
"He's out of his mind with worrying about you."  
  
"He has a novel way of showing it."  
  
"Yeah, I think that's just now occurring to him. You know he can be slow on the  
uptake sometimes, right?" He jostled her arm with his shoulder and that earned  
him a wan smile.  
  
"You'd think he'd be a little more clued in after nine years," Donna sighed.  
  
"That's almost a third of your lifetime." Matt shifted on the steps, stretching  
his legs out in front of him. "I spent forty of my forty-one years convinced  
that everybody in your - I'm sorry, our - party was insane."  
  
"Josh probably didn't do much to help you change that image. I mean, who  
accidentally gets married? It's like I'm stuck in a bad sitcom and can't get  
out."  
  
Matt laughed and nodded. "I'm just saying that we've both had something  
fundamental shift around under us. It's something we have to work at, finding  
our sea legs when we're feeling cast adrift."  
  
Donna nodded, solemn. "That's exactly what I'm feeling right now, Senator."  
  
"It's way past banker's hours, and we're not on the Hill or in Josh's office.  
Call me Matt."  
  
The full wattage of her smile came out like daylight. He was relieved to see  
that after so much gloom. "I appreciate that. You've always been so nice to me.  
Nicer to me than to Josh, actually."  
  
"It's because I know who's important." He looked at his clasped hands for a few  
moments. "You know, just because I switched parties doesn't mean my staff did.  
They jumped ship faster than mice on pogo sticks. I'm working out of my office  
with two interns who share one brain cell between them."  
  
"That has to be rough - I mean, you're practically learning a new language."  
  
"I am. And I need someone who's fluent. Someone who knows how to get things done  
without undoing everything else. Someone with enough talent and energy to keep a  
staff motivated."  
  
"That can't be too hard to find," Donna said, looking up at the night sky. "Many  
of the smartest Democrats in D.C. are pounding the pavement right now."  
  
"Oh, I've found exactly the person I need."  
  
"Really?" Donna's expression was curious, but as Matt continued to look at her,  
smiling, she began to look doubtful. "You're going to try and lure Josh  
away...?"  
  
"No. God, no. I mean, I like the guy, he's my friend, but no way could I work  
with him. But I need the kind of person who can work with people like Josh." He  
waited for her to catch on, or for her to allow herself that flight of fancy,  
but he could see her holding it in check, not letting herself believe what she  
was hearing. "Donna. I want you to come work for me."  
  
She nodded, but her brain obviously hadn't quite caught up. "You want me to get  
an office staff together for you. I can do that, I've hired a lot of--"  
  
"Donna. Stop." He was almost laughing. "I want you to help me organize a staff.  
Then I want you to be in charge of it." There. Her eyes widened and he finished  
his statement. "I'm asking you to be my deputy chief of staff. A special  
advisor."  
  
Donna stared at him, the corners of her mouth turning downward. "Did Josh put  
you up to this?"  
  
"Josh doesn't know, and he'll probably kill me if you take this job, but I don't  
care. I've thought long and hard about who'd be the best person for the  
position, and it's you."  
  
"I don't have a degree," she stammered. "I never finished school, I'm just this  
girl who walked up to the campaign office and assigned herself to Josh Lyman."  
  
"Do you have any idea how many times Josh told me that story?" Matt asked  
softly. "Do you understand how much we admire you for doing that? Donna, what  
you have, they don't teach in school. You're the perfect person for this job.  
You've earned it. I was planning to talk you into it over a power lunch, but  
that's too ordinary. So I'm doing it right here on the steps of the Lincoln  
Memorial." He sensed her hesitation as she lowered her gaze to her lap. Ducking  
his head so she could still see his face, he continued. "Take the job, Donna.  
There are perks. I don't bellow. I can actually use a computer. I don't like  
anyone's coffee but mine, so I make it myself."  
  
Donna sighed. "You make it sound like my dream job."  
  
"It is, it really is. And the biggest perk of you working with me?" He took her  
hand and squeezed it gently. "We won't accidentally fall in love."  
  
Her shoulders began to shake and he put his arms around her, holding her as she  
laughed and cried all at once. He rocked her gently, silently raining curses on  
Josh Lyman and all the men whose influence had left this wonderful woman so  
insecure, so unhappy.  
  
Well, it wasn't going to happen again, not on his watch.  
  
While Donna dried her eyes and combed through her wind-tangled hair, Matt picked  
up his cell phone and checked messages. Josh. Josh. Leo. Josh. C.J. Toby. Josh.  
Josh. And an unfamiliar number.  
  
"Hey, Donna, look at this." He showed her the cell phone. "Is that who I think  
it is?" Donna nodded, confirming that the President had made his own enquiry.  
"Okay, let's take a walk by the White House, let him know you're all right. Then  
we'll go out for dinner, and you'll tell me all the ways you're going to make my  
career a shining success."  
  
"I'm not likely to be much company tonight," Donna demurred.  
  
"That's fine. Then I'll tell you all the ways I'm going to make your career a  
shining success." He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. "But right  
now we don't have to talk at all."  
  
They walked quietly, each lost in thought, until they reached the main gate of  
the White House. Donna got them buzzed in, signed them in, left a short note  
apologizing to Roy, and finally started walking down the familiar corridors that  
were now lined with boxes and boxes of materials that would have to be stored  
somewhere.  
  
"Donna. Thank God," Charlie said as he ran up to them. He opened his arms and  
Donna went into them, sighing gratefully at Charlie's presence, at his comfort.  
Charlie looked up at Matt over her shoulder and mouthed his thanks before  
turning his attention back to Donna. "We sent Josh home once he heard you were  
okay. You don't have to worry about bumping into him tonight."  
  
"Thank you. I'm being...so stupid."  
  
"No. You're not." He patted her on the back. "You're not. Now come on - the  
staff's got standing orders to get you in the minute one of us spots you."  
  
The three of them started walking to the Oval Office. Donna hesitated at the  
threshhold. "You want me to come with you?" Charlie and Matt asked at the same  
time, but Donna shook her head.  
  
"I'm okay. But thanks." She knocked, waited for permission to enter, and walked  
up to the Presidential Seal on the carpet. "Good evening, Mr. President."  
  
"Donnatella. I'm so, so sorry about all of this." He took her hands and brought  
her to the loveseat, taking the spot beside her. "You had us very worried, young  
lady."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I just had to get some air."  
  
"I can understand that." Bartlet sighed heavily. "I suppose we all knew you and  
Josh were close, and on some level I should've seen this coming. I'm just  
terribly sorry for my role in this."  
  
"Oh, no, this isn't your fault. It's not anyone's fault. It's just..." She  
trailed off, unable to meet his clear, compassionate eyes. "There are only a few  
weeks left, and almost everyone has a job lined up. Most of what was going on in  
Josh's office can be done by almost anyone. I'll arrange for a temp. Or two,  
since he'll probably fire the first one before lunch."  
  
"And what are your plans?"  
  
"I've had an offer." At the President's look of alarm, she clarified her  
statement. "I'm going to be the Deputy Chief of Staff for Senator Skinner, sir."  
  
Bartlet whistled his approval. "Very nice. Good for you! I am sorry about the  
circumstances, though. You've brought a lot to this administration over the  
years. Abbey and I are very grateful to you for all you've done. I want to make  
sure that we don't lose you, Donna. You mean so much to us, you really do."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Donna said, her voice rising and breaking. She waved her hand  
in front of her face for a moment. "I'm going to get my things and go, and I'll  
fax my letter to Leo first thing in the morning."  
  
"May I give you a little advice, please?" Bartlet said, putting his arm around  
Donna's shoulders. "Don't just walk out. I know it feels like the thing to do,  
but you're still a little in shock and you're moving very, very fast. Come back  
in the morning. Say your goodbyes to everyone. And that includes Josh."  
  
"I can't face him," Donna whispered.  
  
"He's the one who should be afraid of facing you. Don't misunderstand, I love  
Josh Lyman even when I want to kick his ass into next week. It's not that he got  
married, it's not that he did it by accident and at work, it's that he handled  
the situation about as badly as it could have been. He knows he's screwed up,  
and he's going to have to take it like a man."  
  
That made Donna laugh ruefully, gave her the strength to look the President in  
the eye and thank him. He helped her up and walked her to the door, where Matt  
was waiting. "Senator, is it true that you're going to be looking after Donna  
for me?"  
  
"I think it's the other way around," Matt said as he shook hands with the  
President.  
  
"I stand corrected. Donna, you are not to leave this building tomorrow until  
you've given your contact information to Charlie, is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir," she said, surprising them both by throwing her arms around him and  
hugging him tightly.  
  
Bartlet stroked her hair for a moment before stepping back, grinning. "Matt,  
you'll notice that the Secret Service did absolutely nothing to stop her. Didn't  
even flinch. That's the kind of power she has around here. Don't forget it."  
  
"Oh, I won't." Donna saw admiration in the eyes of both men just before her own  
eyes filled with tears. As she walked with Matt out of the White House, Donna  
knew there would be tears over dinner, and some laughter, and some hope, and a  
new beginning.  
  
And new beginnings were good.  
  
***  
Part 4  
  



	4. Chapter four

***  
  
"Joshua Lyman, married man. Just doesn't make sense." C.J. tested the phrase  
again as she stood outside Toby's apartment and shifted her weight from foot to  
foot while waiting for Toby to answer her knock. "Joshua Lyman, married man."  
  
"Just a minute, C.J.," Toby said from inside, sounding breathless.  
  
"The mind reels, Toby--"  
  
The door opened, but Toby's body blocked C.J.'s view of the interior. He slipped  
out, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Josh isn't in there, running away from home, is he?" C.J. asked, tilting her  
head to one side.  
  
"C.J., seriously, there's something we need to discuss."  
  
"Something other than Josh?" She stepped into the living room of Toby's  
apartment, stopping in her tracks and staring in disbelief.  
  
There were boxes everywhere, full of papers, full of books, full of mismatched  
dishes and framed photographs. Three suitcases stood empty by the bedroom door.  
C.J. poked stiffly at one of the boxes.  
  
Toby folded his hands and looked down at the floor for a moment, then up at  
C.J.'s face. "You knew I was going to leave," he said, not convincing either  
himself or C.J.  
  
"Yeah, but not tonight." She sat heavily on the sofa and buried her face in her  
hands.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere tonight. Or tomorrow. By the end of the week." He gnawed  
on his lower lip, relishing the frisson of pain, before continuing. "I didn't  
know how to tell you, C.J. I'm not sure I...have words."  
  
"Does Leo know?"  
  
Sighing, Toby nodded. "I gave him my letter today."  
  
C.J. knew better than to ask how that meeting had turned out. "Where will you  
go?" She asked, the words muffled by her palms.  
  
"I have an old friend with a place in Sausalito."  
  
"You're going to California?" she asked, her dry, disbelieving laugh coming out  
like a cough.  
  
"To sit. On a boat or something. Maybe the beach." He took a seat beside her and  
put his hand over hers, lacing his fingers through hers and holding tightly.  
"There's something I need to write, C.J. It's all locked up in my head and it  
won't come out, not here, not while I'm writing the administration's obituary."  
  
It was C.J.'s turn to sigh. "I'm the one who gets to read that obituary. And if  
you don't write it, then I'm not sure it's worth reading."  
  
"I'm leaving some things behind. Should get you through the next few weeks in  
one piece. Besides," he added, leaning close enough so she could feel the warmth  
of his breath, "you own that podium. You could read horoscopes from a tabloid,  
and it'd sound like a pronouncement from a sage."  
  
"I only own it for six more weeks," C.J. said. Her voice was strained. "God,  
Toby, what am I going to do without you?"  
  
He took a breath, turning his gaze to an empty box as he felt blood coursing to  
his face. "You could come with me. Meet me out there once you're done."  
  
She sat up, regarding him with curiosity and tenderness. "What, be your muse?"  
  
"Sure. And keep tar from getting on the carpet when I come home from the beach.  
That's important."  
  
"What I'm going to do in New York is important, too. Please tell me you're  
not..."  
  
Aghast, he began rubbing his thumb and fingers together. "No. No, C.J., I'm not  
asking you to give up New York just because I'm going to California."  
  
"I took New York because I thought you were going to be there." She lowered her  
head. "Well, not entirely. But it's a perk. I mean, I assumed..."  
  
"C.J."  
  
They'd talked about it before. They needed to maintain separate spaces, to be  
together when they wanted company but to be apart when they were working -  
especially when he was writing. Toby's heart was leaden as he watched C.J. dab  
at her eyes with the corner of a pillow.  
  
"You'll come back, though?"  
  
He looked into her sad, shining eyes. "I know it's something you need to be  
told, but honest to God, I have no idea. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but  
when I do...when I do, it'll be with something worth reading."  
  
C.J. sat with her lips pressed tightly together, rocking back and forth. "I  
usually love your words, Toby."  
  
"These, not so much?" he whispered, stealing glances at her as she worked to  
control her emotions.  
  
"Not so much, no." She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. "This was  
already so hard. Leaving the White House. Leaving...him. And what we were trying  
to accomplish."  
  
"It's going to be better. We got the Senate back, and Sam will be there, and  
he'll have good causes to fight for so you know he'll be at the top of his  
game." Toby put his arms around C.J. and held her, stroking her hair. "We'll all  
be at the top of our games, C.J. Soon. And I promise to watch you on television  
every night, no matter what."  
  
"Good, because I'm all about the ratings now." She laughed into his shirt,  
pressing her lips against the exposed skin at his throat. "Toby?"  
  
"Mmm?" He was afraid, not for the first time, that she'd decide her future would  
be less complicated without him. He was afraid that this newest hurt would be  
too much. That his last memory of her would be the defeated slump of her  
shoulders and the pain in her eyes.  
  
But instead he found himself on the receiving end of a sensuous smile and the  
feel of her fingers stroking along the edge of his beard.  
  
"You didn't dismantle the bed or anything, did you?"  
  
***   
The next morning   
***  
  
Josh stared out the window of his office, trying not to hear the opening and  
shutting of desk drawers, trying not to see a blonde head or smell green tea  
perfume. The relaxation he'd felt after wedding-night sex, the euphoria of  
knowing that Amy and he were truly bound together, the happiness at the thought  
of someone to love him despite his innumerable faults, all were dissipating in  
the wake of Donna packing up her personal effects.  
  
There had been an early-morning call from the First Lady, who had started off  
with congratulations for Amy and worked her way up to calling Josh a jackass for  
his mishandling of the situation. "She fed you three times a day, changed your  
bandages, took you to the doctor, cleaned your apartment, and managed your meds,  
all while doing your job for you. Think you might have found a better way to  
tell her?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Josh had said glumly, and those were among the only words he'd  
spoken all day. Bonnie was to take Donna's place for the duration, as Toby was  
about to leave, and Donna was packing up to go to her new job with Matt Skinner.  
  
Matt was standing next to Donna's desk, handing her newspaper for wrapping up  
picture frames and coffee mugs. "Will and Grace," Josh muttered, leaning his  
chin on his hand. He squinted at the sunlight - the champagne headache was  
returning full-force - and began to fumble with the blinds. He pulled a cord and  
the blinds opened wide enough to assault him with the full force of November  
sunlight. He scrambled for the other control, what he called "the clear stick  
thing," but succeeded only in making the entire rack go clattering down to the  
floor.  
  
"Shit!" he yelped. "Don--"  
  
He wouldn't be able to call for her ever again. She'd be keeping Matt's office  
running smoothly, keeping him in line. Not that Matt would need much help in  
that department. But still.  
  
Bonnie rushed into the office and cast an appraising glance around the room.  
"I'll call someone from Maintenance and get those put back up. You okay?"  
  
No, I'm not okay. I'm supposed to be on my honeymoon, soaking up sun and getting  
laid three times a day, but instead I'm being assaulted by mini-blinds while  
having to listen to my assistant get ready to leave me.  
  
He didn't say that, but Bonnie probably saw it in his eyes. She backed out the  
door without another word, leaving Josh in the perfect position to watch Donna  
seal the last of the boxes. Her head was down as she wrote something on top of  
it and he couldn't make out what she was saying, but Matt pointed toward Josh's  
office and, after a moment's hesitation, Donna nodded.  
  
Look busy, Josh told himself. Look like you aren't jumping up and down because  
you have a broken toe. Find something to read. He grabbed a folder and opened it  
just as he sensed Donna's presence in the doorway.  
  
"Bonnie's coming back in fifteen minutes, and she'll take care of you until you  
get a temp," she said, and in all the years he'd known her he'd never heard such  
tightness in her voice.  
  
"Yeah," he said, not daring to look up. After a pause, he added, "Thanks."  
  
He heard the hitch in her breath, and it put a lump in his throat the size of a  
fist. Donna coughed, then tried again. "I'd, uh, better go now."  
  
"Yeah," he said again. "See ya."  
  
So it was all coming to this. See ya. Nine years later, Donna's footsteps were  
heading away from him for the last time. See ya.  
  
He could hear Sam in his head, calling him a putz.  
  
Tossing the folder on a chair, he took off at a dead run, spinning Bonnie around  
as he collided with her. He skidded past Charlie and the President without a  
greeting, nearly falling when he hit the marble floor of the lobby. Too  
breathless to speak, he raced up to Donna and turned her around, looking into  
her eyes, pleading for understanding, begging her forgiveness.  
  
She dropped her boxes and threw her arms around his neck. He held her tightly,  
looking over her shoulder as Matt gave him a grim smile and an approving nod.  
  
Josh and Donna had exchanged a million words during their time together. Now  
they were silent, letting touch and tears speak for them. Josh got down on one  
knee to pick up Donna's boxes. I'm so sorry. She helped him to his feet and let  
her fingers brush his as she took the boxes back from him. It's okay. I  
understand.  
  
Then there was a flash of sunlight as two guards opened the doors, and Donna was  
gone.  
  
***  
Part 5   
  



	5. Chapter five

***   
December 31   
***  
  
"Gary, get the phone, would you? Put it on speaker." Donna stepped out of a  
stunning evening gown and laid it across the bed along with the dozen others,  
the surfeit of riches. Among the perks of working for Matt was his friendship  
with a well-known designer who had seen Donna at a fundraiser and declared that  
she was his muse.  
  
Each of the gowns on her bed cost as much as she'd made in six months at the  
White House. Hers to use and return, in exchange for a photo of her in the  
garment - and for being fussed over by the designer himself, who was currently  
pacing her living room as he waited for her to try on another dress.  
  
From the living room she heard Gary's voice. "Donna Moss' residence."  
  
"This is Sam Seaborn. Is Donna available?"  
  
"She can't talk to you right now, Senator - she's naked."  
  
"I'm not naked!" Donna shouted in the direction of the speakerphone. "I'm  
wearing shoes!"  
  
"Well, that's an image I'll carry around for quite a while." Sam's voice  
crackled with amusement. "Is there a man in your apartment?"  
  
"I'm Gary Tennenberg."  
  
"The Gary Tennenberg? The designer?" Sam sounded impressed. He raised his voice  
to make sure Donna could hear him. "Donna, how do you know Gary Tennenberg?"  
  
"He's a friend of a friend of Matt's, and he keeps sending me clothes. Now he's  
here with about a hundred gowns, and I can't decide which one to wear. If I wear  
one at all."  
  
She emerged from the bedroom in her blue bathrobe, looking dejected.  
  
"You're going to the party...wearing...what?" Sam asked.  
  
"I'm not sure if I'm going to go at all." She sat down on the sofa and ran a  
hand through her hair. "I'm having second thoughts. Matt got called out of town  
on a family thing, and going alone - well, I don't know about that."  
  
"Tell her she has to go," Gary put in. He was a tall, slim man with dark hair  
graying at the temples and hazel eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. "It's New  
Year's Eve, and it's a party at the White House, and she has to go, whether she  
wears one of my dresses or sackcloth and ashes."  
  
"You have to go," Sam said. Donna could hear the friendliness in his voice.  
"Gary says so. Besides, it's not as if you don't have a thing to wear."  
  
"I could change clothes every twenty minutes and not repeat an outfit," Donna  
admitted with a grateful glance at Gary. "But if I'm going to be miserable the  
entire night, then why bother?"  
  
"Being around me is going to make you miserable? I haven't seen you in, what, a  
year and a half? It's been crazy since I got into town, Donna, and I was  
counting on seeing you tonight. In fact, I was counting on you to do me a  
favor."  
  
God bless Sam, Donna thought as she smiled tearfully at the telephone. He's  
going to ask me to go to the party with him.  
  
"I hate to show up at these things alone - Abbey always points me in the  
direction of some strange woman or another and things that Abbey organizes..."  
Sam trailed off. "Well. Anyway. I was hoping you'd do me the honor."  
  
"That depends - is your tux hand-tailored?" Gary asked, putting his arm around  
Donna and hugging her while she dried her tears and worked to regain the power  
of speech.  
  
"You bet. If I'm going to be an accessory for Donna's outfit, I'm going to be a  
good one."  
  
"Then come by her place in an hour."  
  
"She'll be ready in an hour?"  
  
"Guys, you know I'm in the room, right?" Donna asked.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam said, sounding genuinely contrite. "Will you do me the honor?"  
  
"Of course." Her heart was full of gratitude. "Thanks, Sam." She disconnected  
the call and went back into the bedroom. Her attention was caught by something  
dark blue, and she stepped into the dress and zipped it up before going back  
into the living room.  
  
She was wearing dark blue velvet, with a high neckline, a gentle drape at the  
back, and a slim skirt. It clung to Donna's body in exactly the right ways, and  
the color made her hair look like spun gold.  
  
"Oh. Donna." Gary's face glowed with pride. "That's the one."  
  
***  
  
C.J. stood in the doorway of the Oval Office. "Good evening, Mr. President.  
Ma'am."  
  
"Hey, C.J." Bartlet looked up from the shoe he was lacing. "Are you wearing  
black?"  
  
"Nothing gets past you, Mr. President," C.J. said with a grin as she entered. "I  
know we were supposed to be more festive, but I've packed almost everything and  
this was the only dress I could find."  
  
"You should go to Donna's - Sam tells me she's up to her knees in Gary  
Tennenbergs, along with Gary himself," Abbey declared.  
  
C.J.'s eyes widened. "He's at her apartment? With, you know, dresses and  
everything?"  
  
"She's moving up in the world. I miss her," Bartlet declared, tying his other  
shoe. He paused, and for a moment C.J. thought he was going to say something  
else, but the room remained silent a while longer.  
  
Abbey broke the stillness. "C.J., come help me with this bracelet and tell me  
what you've heard from Toby."  
  
C.J. had shared his cryptic post card messages with everyone and told them the  
funny stories about Toby being handed a live fish at the market and how he'd  
accidentally gone to a service at a Jews For Jesus "synagogue." The late-night  
phone calls and long, handwritten letters she'd kept to herself, along with a  
sudden desire to tell NBC to jump into the Hudson because she was a California  
Girl down to her toes. But of course she wouldn't do that, and most nights she  
was able to talk herself down from the ledge.  
  
"He called last Thursday. He's tied up with the book, of course, but he wanted  
me to send you his regards." She tried to look casual as she fiddled with the  
clasp of Abbey's bracelet, tried to hide her disappointment that she'd be at the  
party alone, but she knew she wasn't fooling anyone.  
  
"I'm sorry," Abbey said. "I know you wanted to be with him tonight. We should've  
sent you to California."  
  
She shook her head, enjoying the tinkling sound her earrings made as they bobbed  
back and forth. "He's not ready for me, yet."  
  
"Getting ready for you is a job that could take a lifetime," Bartlet declared.  
Looking from one woman to the other, he added, "I mean that in the best possible  
sense."  
  
"Nice save, Mr. President," C.J. said, her good spirits beginning to return. She  
glanced at the outer office. "It's good to see Zoey. She looks great."  
  
"All my daughters look great. My wife, even more so." Bartlet beamed up at  
Abbey, who gave him an indulgent smile in return. "It's even better to see her  
talking to Charlie."  
  
The breakup had been slow and painful, with hurt feelings on both sides, but  
tonight the two were talking as animatedly as any old friends who were catching  
up. C.J. sighed. "We were all so young."  
  
"No, no, none of that. No maudlin exchanges tonight. I forbid it. By executive  
order, if need be." Bartlet got to his feet and put one arm around Abbey and the  
other around C.J. "First woman to shed a tear has to dance with Josh."  
  
Josh's inability to dance was the stuff of legend around the White House. Every  
woman in the building had a damaged shoe or a torn hemline to bear witness to  
his ineptitude. He'd actually broken C.J.'s toe at the second Inaugural.  
  
Remembering that, C.J. winced as she pulled away and headed out of the office.  
"I'll keep that in mind, sir. See you there."  
  
Abbey snuggled closer to her husband as they watched Zoey and Charlie depart  
with C.J. "You didn't mention what's going to happen to the first man to shed a  
tear."  
  
"We won't!" he declared, placing his hand over his heart. "We're strong, manly  
men. We don't weep when we hear 'Auld Lang Syne.' I'm shocked - shocked, I say -  
that you'd suggest such a thing."  
  
"I was going to suggest, my manly husband, that the first man to shed a tear has  
to dance with the First Lady." She reached up to touch his face, showing him the  
drop of moisture she'd found on his cheek. "I love you, Jed."  
  
"I love you, too," he murmured, holding her tightly for just a moment longer  
before offering her his arm. "Let's put this turkey in the oven, shall we?"  
  
Like royalty they swept through the halls they'd come to know so well. Arm in  
arm, joined body and heart, they smiled at the Secret Service agents and went to  
bid a fond farewell to their second family.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the announcer intoned solemnly, "The President and First  
Lady of the United States!"  
  
The string quartet played "Hail to the Chief" and everyone in the room rose,  
applauding. So many people, even though they'd kept the list down to "those we  
actually like," as the President had expressed it. Leo was the first to greet  
them, of course, slim and elegant in his immaculate tuxedo but with a pallor to  
his face that upset his old friends more than they would have dreamed possible.  
  
"Abbey," he said as he kissed her cheek. "Mr. President."  
  
"We must break you of that habit," Bartlet said as he embraced Leo, wondering if  
Leo would live long enough to call him by his first name again.  
  
"I'm not willing to start until you're safe and sound on the farm, after which  
time we'll review the situation." The three of them made their way to a table  
near the quartet.  
  
"How are you? Good to see you, thanks for being here," the President said to the  
musicians, waving. The first violinist nodded his greeting.  
  
"Someone's taking care of them on their break, right?" Abbey asked Leo.  
  
"They're with the American Symphony. They make more money than I do," Leo  
commented. "But yes, we have stuff for them and also for the people who are  
working tonight."  
  
"Thank you, Leo."  
  
"You're welcome, Abbey. But it was Margaret who set it all up. You know,  
treating workers with dignity and all that." But Leo's smile betrayed how proud  
he was that she'd stood up to him and demanded that hospitality be extended to  
the people giving up their holiday.  
  
Margaret was sitting with a group of people who were drinking champagne, eating,  
and laughing. Everyone looked happy for a change, instead of skulking around the  
halls of the West Wing with slumped shoulders and listless expressions. Beyond  
that group were Liz, her husband, and their three children - Annie, who at  
twenty was a younger version of her grandmother, Ethan, a dark-haired boy of  
thirteen, and ten-year-old James, who was currently giggling in delight as his  
father opened a helium balloon, took a breath from it, and began to talk.  
  
Ellie and Josh watched silently while Zoey questioned Amy about the burgeoning  
women's rights movements in third-world nations. Their lively discussion was  
interrupted by the announcer.  
  
"Senator Samuel Seaborn and Ms. Donnatella Moss."  
  
And at that moment, everything shifted.  
  
Sam was so pleased and proud, standing at the top of the stairs with Donna's arm  
linked through his, as his friends got to their feet and applauded. He descended  
the staircase slowly, in deference to the narrow skirt of Donna's exquisite  
gown, but he was anxious for this long-awaited homecoming.  
  
"I'm so sorry we're late," Sam began, only to find himself engulfed by a sea of  
welcoming arms. C.J. threw herself into his embrace, while Josh and Leo clapped  
him on the back. Sam kept an eye on Donna, who had stepped aside to watch the  
reunion.  
  
"Hey, Sam, you look great!" Josh declared, holding his friend by the shoulders.  
"We have so much to talk about. There's going to be..."  
  
He trailed off as he found himself face to face with Donna. She lowered her  
gaze, and he had to duck to meet her eyes. "Hello, Donna," he said softly.  
  
"Hello, Josh." She turned slightly away. Their corner of the room was silent and  
uncomfortable for what felt like years, until someone rescued them.  
  
"I'm so glad you're here, Donna. We're counting on you to settle an argument,  
and you're the only person who knows the real answer." It was Amy, stepping  
forward with her hand outstretched. Donna took it, looking surprised and wary,  
but Amy smiled and hugged her. Sam heard Amy whisper into Donna's ear, "He's  
scared to death." That made Donna relax enough to shake hands with Josh and  
offer him a tremulous smile.  
  
"Is that a Tennenberg?" C.J. asked. When Donna nodded her affirmative, all the  
women in the group sighed. "Seriously, forget NBC. I want to work for Senator  
Skinner."  
  
"No way. Gary only likes me because I'm the tallest woman he knows." There was  
another silence, then Donna turned to Amy, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Now,  
about that argument that only I can mediate..."  
  
She and Amy walked away, joining Zoey and some others at a table across the  
room. Leo and C.J. got pulled away by other partygoers, leaving Josh and Sam by  
themselves. Josh relaxed visibly and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay.  
That's done."  
  
"Yeah, that's done."  
  
"It went really well, I think." Josh seemed to realize that his hair was now  
beyond repair, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.  
  
"Yes, it went well."  
  
The men looked at each other for a moment.  
  
"It sucked," Josh declared.  
  
"Pretty much." Sam took a glass of champagne from a tray and handed it to Josh  
before getting one for himself. "But it's over. Mostly because Amy saved our  
asses."  
  
Josh raised his glass to Sam in a silent toast and they each took sips. "I  
almost didn't come tonight, Sam."  
  
"Donna said the same thing. Why are you here?"  
  
"Because Amy made me come. Why is Donna here?"  
  
"Her designer made her come."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Anyway," Sam said, feeling unaccountably nervous, "I never had the chance to  
congratulate you. By the time you called, I'd already heard about it  
from...well, from a lot of people."  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam. I seem to have pissed off about everyone I've ever met in one  
fell swoop."  
  
"You didn't piss me off," Sam put in quickly. "Well, only a little. I was a  
little disappointed about not being your best man."  
  
"You are," Josh said. "You are the best man I know, Sam, and I'm honored to be  
working for you."  
  
Sam was able to bask in the compliment for a few seconds before becoming acutely  
embarrassed. "Come on, let's go see the President."  
  
Bartlet greeted Sam with a fierce embrace before turning him over to his wife  
for inspection and a kiss on the cheek. "Senator, Jed and I are so glad you  
could join us tonight."  
  
"I can't thank you enough for inviting me, ma'am."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Sam - you're part of the family! Has anyone gotten you  
something to eat?"  
  
"I'll get something in a few minutes, thank you. How are you?"  
  
"Tired of hearing President Know-it-all try and convince me that this is the  
eighteenth variation."  
  
"Eighteenth variation of what?" Josh asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
"The eighteenth variation upon a theme of Paganini, by Rachmaninoff," Bartlet  
said smoothly. "My lovely wife insists that it is the twenty-first, and it is  
not."  
  
"We could, you know, ask them," Josh said, jerking a thumb in the direction of  
the quartet.  
  
"They're busy. I'll go look over their shoulders." Sam walked onto the stage,  
nodding at the group. "Excuse me, but I just want to see the title..."  
  
His toe caught on the edge of the violist's chair and he lost his balance. He  
tottered for an instant, smiling when he realized that he had not actually  
fallen down. Then, as the music stopped, his smile froze.  
  
His champagne glass was empty.  
  
The violist's black dress was wet, and droplets stood out like diamonds against  
her brunette curls.  
  
"Oh, God," murmured Sam.  
  
***  
  
"I'm so sorry," he said for the fifteenth time, and the young woman looked at  
him with even more annoyance in her brown eyes.  
  
"Look, you didn't spill it on my instrument, for which I'm very grateful. You  
got me a towel and your friend found a hair dryer and that's all wonderful. But  
I need to get back out there and, you know, earn my living."  
  
"We're on a break, Nina," said the 'cellist mildly as she passed a full plate to  
the second violinist. "Just relax."  
  
Nina blew out a breath and sat down at the table with her colleagues. She  
smiled. Sam thought it was a nice smile. "You work here, in the White House?"  
she asked.  
  
"I used to. I've changed jobs since then."  
  
"What do you do now?"  
  
He didn't quite know how to answer the question. "I'm, uh, in the Senate."  
  
"Oh, right," said the first violinist. "I thought you looked familiar - you're  
the guy from California."  
  
The guy from California.  
  
"We're not especially political," said the second violinist, shrugging, as he  
ate a stuffed mushroom.  
  
"Except about the N.E.A. We're kind of passionate about that," the 'cellist put  
in.  
  
"Anyway," Nina said, her expression softening a little, "it's not a big deal  
about the champagne, and it's nice of you to check on me, Senator...?"  
  
"Seaborn. But please, call me Sam." Sam extended his hand, which was still a  
little sticky from the champagne. "Oops, sorry."  
  
"Jacqueline Fisher-Lennox. But please, call me Nina."  
  
She really did have a nice smile.  
  
"And tell your friend, the guy with the hair," Nina added, making a swirling  
motion above her head, "that I've heard every viola joke on the internet already  
and he's not so funny."  
  
"That would be White House Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman, but I'll be sure  
to pass your message along to him."  
  
Nina didn't seem impressed with Josh's title. Or with Josh, for that matter.  
  
But she really did have a nice smile.  
  
***  
  
At 11:30, everyone began to fear that the President was going to make a speech.  
  
Sam, who was dancing with Donna, mentioned that fear to her.  
  
"It's his party, Sam. Of course he's going to say something. And just because  
Toby wasn't here to write it for him doesn't mean it won't be meaningful.  
Meaningful, and, well, lengthy."  
  
He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Yes, and I'm glad you see my point."  
  
"Are you afraid of missing midnight?" she asked. "Think he'll talk his way right  
into 2007? Or are you afraid he'll still be talking when the musicians pack up  
and leave?"  
  
Busted.  
  
"Donna, I wouldn't dream of--"  
  
"Sam, I can get a cab home."  
  
"You can not get a cab home. It's New Year's Eve, and no one can get a cab  
because they're all busy."  
  
"That means someone's in a cab."  
  
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Josh asked as he and Amy joined them.  
  
"I'm trying to get Sam to make a move on the viola player," Donna said smoothly.  
  
"You know the difference between a violin and a viola? Violas burn longer." Josh  
sounded happy and a little intoxicated.  
  
"Yes, and Nina said she's already heard all the viola jokes in, you know, the  
world, so you can stop."  
  
"How do you know she doesn't have a ride?" Donna asked.  
  
"One of the violinists said they all came in one car. It'd be the least I could  
do to get her home after ruining her dress and getting champagne in her hair.  
But it'd also be the least I could do to get Donna home, since she agreed to  
come with me."  
  
Donna shook her head. "Go for it. Sam, I said it's okay and that I'd get a cab."  
  
"You'll never get a cab tonight. We'll drop you off," Amy said.  
  
"I don't want to be a bother," Donna said, her voice becoming softer with each  
word.  
  
"You're not a bother." Amy wriggled out of Josh's arms and put her hand on  
Donna's shoulder. "If it weren't for you, Josh might not be alive right now.  
That's a big deal to me, Donna. Driving a few blocks out of my way - not so  
much."  
  
Before Donna could say anything, the President started making a move toward the  
stage. "Go," Donna whispered to Sam, who made long strides so that he could be  
standing near the stage when the last song was played.  
  
"Good evening, my friends," Bartlet said into the microphone. "I wanted to say a  
few things to you - and don't worry, because I can see a clock from here and I  
promise to stop before the new year begins."  
  
Everyone laughed.  
  
"This is our last formal affair in the White House. From now on it'll be  
barbecues at the farm - which, although they are more comfortable, won't give me  
the chance to admire our beautiful women in all their finery. And by 'all' I  
mean 'you and the girls,' Abbey."  
  
"Thank you," she drawled, raising her glass to him.  
  
"In any event, I just wanted to say how much I've appreciated each and every one  
of you during this great adventure. Thank you, C.J., for putting your beautiful  
face on my words and deeds. And thank you, Josh, for doing whatever the hell you  
do - I've never understood it, but I know I'd be dead in the water without you."  
  
Josh rested his cheek on Amy's head and held his hand out to C.J., who held it  
tightly as she fought back tears.  
  
"Thank you, Charlie, for going to the wrong office and ending up talking to Josh  
instead of to some guy with a bike helmet. What you've done for me, what you've  
deferred because of me - I won't ever forget what I owe you."  
  
Charlie stood with Ellie, who slipped her arm around his waist and hugged him.  
"Way to go, Charlie," she whispered as she looked back at her father.  
  
"Thanks, Sam, for the words and the wisdom, and for having the sense to run for  
Senate so you could take over when we get evicted." Then Bartlet's gaze rested  
on Leo. "And as for you, Leo McGarry...well, I have no words." He started to say  
something else, but his voice gave out and he held the microphone away for a few  
seconds while he composed himself.  
  
"And now, since I have some time left, I'd like to give you a history of the  
musical selection we will hear at midnight..."  
  
One of the waiters whispered something to Abbey, who whispered it to the  
President, who nodded at the announcer by the door. "Tell us who our tardy but  
welcome guest is," Bartlet said.  
  
Everyone turned toward the top of the stairs, where a lone figure in a tuxedo  
stood with a sheaf of papers in his hand.  
  
"Toby Ziegler," the announcer intoned.  
  
Toby moved slowly, his dark eyes scanning the room until they found C.J., who  
stood rooted to the spot with her hands over her heart. Toby looked from her to  
Josh, who was standing behind C.J. with his hands on her shoulders, and then  
over to the First Family.  
  
"Am I interrupting something?" he asked.  
  
"Depends. Is that for me?" Bartlet held out his hand and took the papers from  
Toby. With his free hand he fished in his pocket for his reading glasses and  
put them on. "'An Assembly of Words,' it says here." He opened the book from the  
back and glanced at it. "This is about writing speeches. My speeches."  
  
"It's only the first chapter, sir," Toby said, sounding uncertain of his  
welcome. "But I think there's something at the beginning that you should read.  
The, uh, dedication."  
  
Bartlet did so, and his blue eyes dimmed with tears. He cleared his throat once,  
twice, and set the papers down with a trembling hand. "I'm not reading that part  
aloud," he murmured into the microphone, his voice giving out for the second  
time that evening. As he turned to Toby, trying to find words, the sound of  
fireworks on the Mall could be heard, and joyful voices outside began to count  
down.  
  
"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!"  
  
"Five!" shouted the people in the ballroom.  
  
"Four!" Josh spun Amy around in his arms and held her tightly.  
  
"Three!" Bartlet held his hands out to Abbey, who took them and began to join  
the other voices.  
  
"Two!" Sam stood behind Nina, ready to speak to her at the first opportunity. He  
looked out in the crowd at Donna, who granted him a smile and a thumbs-up.  
  
"One!" Toby made his way to C.J., cupping her face in his hands.  
  
"Happy New Year!" everyone cried at once, and the quartet began to play "Auld  
Lang Syne." Lovers kissed, old friends kissed, new friends smiled at one another  
even though a viola was between them, and everyone embraced as they began to  
sing: "Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind..."  
  
They were all singing except Toby, who held his hand out to C.J. and gave her  
his most dazzling smile.  
  
"Dance with me," he said, and she did, as their friends watched with love in  
their hearts.  
  
***  
  
"We'll take a cup of kindness yet," warbled Bartlet as he removed his tie and  
flung it onto the nightstand.  
  
"For the love of God, Jed, would you stop?" Abbey returned from the bathroom  
with little dollops of moisturizer across her cheeks and forehead. She rubbed  
the cream into her skin as she went to the side of the bed and sat down. "I  
thought it was a great party."  
  
"You thought it was a great party because Toby interrupted my speech."  
  
"That didn't hurt. But seriously, we saw a lot of wonderful things tonight. It  
looks as if Josh and Donna can coexist without bringing on the Apocalypse, C.J.  
and Toby looked wonderful together, and did you see Sam talking to the viola  
player? Did you see how she looked at him?"  
  
"Sam's a good looking man. Everyone looks at him. I wouldn't read too much into  
that."  
  
Abbey, who had begun to brush her hair, stopped and looked at her husband. "You  
don't sound happy, Jed."  
  
"I am happy," he protested weakly as he continued to undress. "My kids were  
there, and the grandchildren, and Leo looked really good. It's just that - I had  
until 2007, you know, and it didn't seem as if it were really going to happen.  
Then the clock struck midnight, and I'm about to turn into a pumpkin again."  
  
"You're my pumpkin," Abbey declared, pulling him down for a kiss. "You've said  
for years that we need to get our lives back, and we're about to do just that.  
I'll apply for my license again, and you'll have all the time in the world to  
read and catch up on being a normal man."  
  
"I have never been a normal man."  
  
"Okay, you can go back to being an abnormal man." She kissed him again and  
stroked the side of his face. "Is it really so awful, the thought of belonging  
to me and not the entire nation?"  
  
"Abigail, my darling wife, that thought is the only thing keeping me awake at  
this ungodly hour of the night." He turned off the lamp and got into bed beside  
her.  
  
"Keep talking like that and you might get lucky," Abbey murmured into his  
shoulder.  
  
He thought for a few moments, recalling campaign stops and poker games, trivia  
contests and late-night chats. He remembered Thanksgivings and Christmases come  
and gone, friends lost and friendships begun anew. And he thought of all the  
good things that had come to pass because of the amazing people who had worked  
in the West Wing over the last eight years.  
  
Bartlet put his arm around Abbey and turned her so he could kiss her, so he  
could tuck her head beneath his chin, so he could run his hands up and down the  
soft curves of her body. "I have been," he said to her between kisses.  
  
"Been what," was her half-sleepy, half-aroused question. He smiled into the  
darkness and tightened his hold on her.  
  
"I have been - and continue to be - the luckiest man in the world."  
  
***  
  
End "Spirits of Great Events"  
Feedback would be adored at Marguerite@opermail.com   
  
The Rarest Faith will consist of six self-contained stories:  
Spirits of Great Events (2006)   
A Mighty Thing (2007)   
Healthy Irreverance (2008)   
The Surest Wisdom (2009)   
Beginning to Believe (2010)   
The Triumph of Principles (2011)  
  
How can I ever thank my comrades and friends enough for what  
they've done? Ria, Jo March, and International Princess have  
been timely, honest, and loving beta readers with a genuine  
interest in the story. Ryo Sen and Anna have been by my side  
with pointy sticks - uh, gentle reminders - with which to  
encourage me when I faltered. Ladies, I owe you everything.  
  
Notes:   
1. Many people will only read stories - especially  
long ones - if they know the outcomes of any possible  
pairings. I've listed the obvious ones but really can't tell  
about Josh because advance knowledge will ruin the story. If  
that means you can't/won't read this, then I'm sorry, but I  
do need to protect the work as it's written. When it's all  
over, someone can tell you how it came out and you can  
decide then whether or not to give it a try. :)   
2. I'm not addressing exactly how/when Sam left the White House  
because, as of the time of this writing, I don't know. This  
is just conjecture.   
3. I know that the National Symphony makes its home in D.C.   
and that the "American Symphony" is fictitious. I went to   
college with people in the National, which made using the   
real name just too creepy.   
4. And no, Nina's not based on a real person although I did   
get her nickname from someone I met.  
  
Back to West Wing .  
  



End file.
